


Eternally Bound

by Watterdrop



Series: Through the Stars [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (In Space) - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, F/F, Fluff, Imprisonment, Love at First Sight, Pre-Canon, Sort of? - Freeform, Time is Weird, Trans Cinders, Trans Female Character, Weddings, i mean it’s the mechs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28774515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watterdrop/pseuds/Watterdrop
Summary: Cinders has long given up hope for ever escaping her cell.Until suddenly, there’s Rose.
Relationships: Cinders & Snow | General White, Cinders/Rose (Once Upon A Time In Space)
Series: Through the Stars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2109654
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	Eternally Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Me: what if Cinders and Rose...talked more?  
> Also me: writes more dialogue between Cinders and Snow than Cinders and Rose.
> 
> Also, I did not intend to code Cinders as trans, but now I will die by this headcanon.

She sits in her cell, her head lolling to the side, drifting somewhere between sleep and wake. It’s then she hears the whispers, coming from the guards outside, though she barely comprehends them. Something about a new guard; one too qualified to be reassigned to this prison, they say, where most of the prisoners have lost all hope of escape.

Prisoners like Cinders. 

_Suppose the King's mercy doesn’t cover an actual bed_ , she thinks, rolling her head to the other side and cracking her neck. She sits in the warmest part of her cell, right next to the bars dividing her from the rest of the world. It’s barely more than a draft from the hallway, but it’s better than nothing—better than the corner where the ceiling seems to always be leaking, so the cold, wet stone is warped by probably hundreds of years of slow dripping water.

She finally manages to catch a wink of sleep as she hears the voices outside murmur a name that she doesn’t catch.

* * *

She’s awoken much later by the soft clink of a metal sheet shifting out of place, indicating that her next meal is here. She doesn’t remember the last time she ate. Sometimes the guards are so uninterested in her that she isn’t fed for days on end. She is still so tired as she turns to look to the door, she might not even—

Cinders scrambles up, moving for the first time in what feels like days. 

The woman staring at her from the other side of the bars is beautiful. 

Her hair is cropped, and so vibrant red that it almost seems like her head is on fire. Cinders can just make out a long scar across her cheek. She’s tall too, as she straightens from the shelf suddenly and meets Cinders’ eyes. And her eyes....

Her eyes are the night sky, so dark and sunken, yet full of twinkling stars. 

They stare at each other for a moment before the woman scurries away. Cinders thinks the pink in her cheeks is just her imagination. 

Then, her senses return, and she moves to eat.

* * *

The other woman is a guard. Cinders knows this, knows that she is only there to make sure she doesn’t escape, but that doesn’t seem to stick in her head. 

Maybe because, after nearly two weeks of eating and sleeping consistently, she has never felt better, and the blush in the guards cheeks has not disappeared. 

Cinders digs her shoulders hard into the wall behind her. A cold front seems to have come in, and the drip in the corner seems to be coming down faster, to the point that it’s almost a solid stream of water pooling onto the floor. She shivers, edging further into the wall. She considers tucking her arms into her prison jumper, but she eventually decides against it, and she instead hugs herself tight.

Soon, though, she hears footsteps approaching her cell. This is strange because it’s not mealtime; Cinders, somehow, has memorized when the guard will bring food. But the footsteps are familiar, and soon enough there she is. Her eyes are sparkling with stars, but she seems nervous. She barely meets Cinders’ gaze as she opens the shelf….

And pushes through a blanket. 

It’s a ratty old thing, nothing special, but it looks warm. Tentatively, Cinders gets up, but by the time she’s reached the blanket, the guard has hurried away, eyes trained to the floor. 

This makes her sad, but the blanket, old as it is, is incredibly warm, so she curls up underneath it. 

She dreams of red hair and stars.

* * *

When her guard isn’t there, the others still whisper about her outside the cell. Rose, they say her name is. 

Cinders rolls the name over her tongue, trying to match it to her guard. Rose. It fits her, she thinks, until the whispering continues.

Finest warrior, they say. King Cole’s pride and joy. He’ll have her one day. She’s damn close to royal blood, possibly the closest thing there is, other than the king himself.

It’s enough to give her pause. Rose is tall, scarred, and undeniably strong, yes, but she’s also gentle and kind. These guards are spreading rumors, completely unfounded. As for her lineage...Cinders is aware enough to know that the king would not marry within his kingdom. Not when a marriage alliance like the one that brought her own planet to ruin is so sweet. 

She continues to daydream of Rose, her soft features and night-sky eyes, until the conversation drifts to families and status. One of the younger guards is getting rather defensive; apparently, he’s from a less illustrious planet than New Constantinople. He’s being teased by the others, but Cinders sees the desperation in his eyes. She knows how far he must be willing to go to defend his honor. She’s seen the look before, in the eyes of her stepmother.

He throws the first punch, breaking someone else’s nose. Then, they crowd around him, grunts and yells flying through the air as the sound of knuckles hitting flesh and bones cracking fills the space. Cinders doesn’t want to watch the poor boy getting mauled by the others, so she starts to turn.

Until, suddenly, there’s Rose. 

She tackles the young guard, pinning him to the ground. Then, her foot swipes out catching the rest of them, no less than five people, off guard. In a singular moment, all of them are on the ground, and Rose is standing. 

“There will be no infighting in my prison.”

Rose’s voice is low, hard, and commanding. The other guards hurry to stand, forming a straight line as her gaze burns into them. Cinders straightens to, as much as she can. But Rose doesn’t look her way as she passes. Cinders doesn’t mind though; she’s thinking about how much she wants to hear Rose’s laugh.

* * *

When Rose delivers her next meal, Cinders is waiting by the shelf. As soon as the metal sheet is pulled away, she reaches through and grabs Rose’s wrist. 

Rose looks startled, eyes wide and so full of stars. Cinders squeezes once, and clears her throat.

“Rose,” she says softly. It’s the first real word she’s spoken in years, she thinks, so her voice is rough with disuse. Rose gasps, a minuscule sound that tugs at her heart, and suddenly there is a hand in hers. There’s a small scar on her lip, she notices. 

“They call you Cinders,” says Rose. Her voice is so much lighter than when she first heard it, and she’s left speechless. She nods though. She had a different name, when she still lived on her home planet, but it doesn’t seem to fit now. She’s outgrown that name.

They say nothing else, but they hold each other’s hand for several minutes. Finally, they hear the footsteps of another guard heading their way, and Rose tears her gaze away, standing briskly and moving the other direction.

Cinders can’t find it in her to blame Rose. Besides, the longer their relationship stays secret, the longer they have together. Cinders knows she will never be free; she came to terms with that years ago.

So she moves to the new cot that was delivered to her cell, curls under the ratty blanket, and dreams of Rose, and the first smile she’s had in far longer that the decade she’s been imprisoned is so wide that it hurts.

* * *

“Sister,” Rose whispers to her. “Twin. You?”

“Stepsisters. Two.” Cinders grimaces. “Stepmother.”

This is how they speak to each other: hushed words without elaborate language. It doesn’t matter to Cinders. She and Rose seem to still understand each other perfectly well. 

“Parents?” Cinders asks.

“Nobles,” Rose says. She raises her eyebrows, directing the question back. 

Cinders thinks for a moment. Both of her parents are dead, and she doesn’t know what happened to her stepmother and sisters. Most likely, they’re dead too. But Rose probably realizes that, and she doesn’t want to bring the conversation down. 

Finally, she whispers, “Princess.”

Rose grins, and her smile is so wide that Cinders feels herself caught in it, and smiling herself. She grips her hands tight. 

“Dream?” Rose murmurs, and Cinders doesn’t have to think for a second before answering. 

“Stars.”

Rose nods. “Escape,” she says for herself. She gives out a soft chuckle, and Cinders _melts_.

* * *

She’s waiting by the bars when the fight breaks out. She has a perfect view of the prisoner attempting to escape.

She’s no longer housed by herself; not since the publicity of her capture died down, but she’s never seen those who she shared this hallway with. There’s only a wall in front of her, and to her right is the end of the hallway, there must be three or four cells to her left. 

This prisoner is an older woman with a stocky, short figure. Cinders doesn’t understand why she’s in the same holding area that she is, until she sees the manic gleam in her eyes. Her face is almost avian, all sharp edges that do not align with her motherly silhouette. 

She has something in her hands, which Cinders realizes is a sharpened bone. The prisoner darts her fist out, piercing the guard outside her cell’s neck. The guard sputters, hands gasping at their throat, but the woman has already managed to obtain the keys to her own cell. The guard collapses, drenched in his own blood, and the woman calmly steps past the bars.

Cinders watches, morbidly entranced, as two more guards run towards the escapee, but they are taken down in a similar fashion. The woman is faster than she looks, and the guards fall lifeless to the floor, one with a hole in their throat, the other in their heart. Their blood pools around them, staining the stone a dark red.

When the woman tries to leave, however, Rose is there, blocking her path. Cinders lets out a gasp, fighting with herself not to call out, not to scream at Rose to _run, just run!_

But Rose pulls out her pistol and fires straight into the woman’s face. 

Her blood doesn’t pool; it sprays, and Cinders is certain it’s gotten into her own cell. She chokes back a gag when she sees the woman’s face; or rather, what’s left of it. Instead, she turns to Rose, looking for comfort in her eyes.

But when Rose meets her gaze, she looks...afraid? Ashamed? Before the guards behind her can finish collecting the bodies, Rose is gone. 

Cinders watches her leave, and feels strangely empty.

* * *

Rose is avoiding her.

She is always accompanied when she brings Cinders’ meals, so they cannot speak with each other. Rose’s touches are fleeting, as she rips her hand away as soon as the metal sheet is open. Cinders would be lying if she said she wasn’t hurt, but she also knows that Rose doesn’t hate her. Just days after the attempted escape, Cinders finds that the leak in her ceiling has vanished. Her cell is almost livable now, which is something she _never_ thought would happen. 

In the moments when they do make eye contact, though, Cinders can see trepidation. Rose moves like a frightened wild animal, silently moving through the hallway at a brisk pace.

Cinders cannot figure out why. At least, not until she once again hears the other guards whispering about Rose. They’re quiet, like always, but one word seems to break through the bars and rip her heart right out of her chest.

_Reassigned._

It takes time to process the word and connect it with Rose. As soon as she realizes what it means, she collapses in sorrow, her chest aching. 

She will never get to hold Rose's hand again. The last time she saw her face, it was turned away in shame. Rose will leave without ever knowing how much Cinders loves her.

Cinders isn’t sure when she fell in love, or when she realized she was in love. She knew it could never amount to anything; a noble guard and a disgraced princess in a cage. Yet still her heart throbs, and tears cloud her vision. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to cry, but there’s nothing she can do to stop the sobs that wracked her body.

Cinders lays in the coldest part of the cell, clutching her blanket to her chest, and weeps.

* * *

A slow creak awakens her and fills the cell. At first, Cinders doesn’t recognize the sound. It isn’t the metal sheet being moved, or the door at the end of the hall. 

It isn’t until she hears footsteps that she bolts upright. 

The door is open and there is a woman in her cell. 

Her coat is long and white, stark black hair flowing down over her shoulders. Her eyes are dark under the pale hood, but they shimmer in the faint light. She is beautiful, and eerily familiar. 

Cinders scrambled to her feet, stepping away from the woman who had opened the door. They stare at each other for a long moment before the woman moves away, walking briskly down the hall. After a moment, she pauses and looks back at Cinders, still frozen.

“Well?” the woman snaps, and Cinders jerks to attention. It’s been years since she had a cell transfer, but she’s sure that this is very much not the procedure. Firstly, the woman is waiting for her. Secondly, the woman is alone; there are no other guards here to escort her to her new cell.

Still, Cinders doesn’t want to risk punishment, so she quickly follows the woman, but, in a sweet moment of rebellion, she grabs the blanket to bring with her.

The woman looks at it for a long moment before turning away, giving no instruction. 

* * *

A multitude of stars stretched out before her. She knew that the lights from Zantine were blocking out a large number of them, but it had been so long since she had seen stars at all. Her eyes began to fill with tears as she clutched the blanket closer to her chest.

The woman turns and shouts, “Well, don’t dawdle! Our first getaway carriage is waiting.”

Cinders tears her eyes from the sky to watch the woman, who’s pointing to a large vehicle across the lawn. It does look like a carriage, round and gilded with rose gold, but there are no horses.

She wasn’t being transferred. This was a _jailbreak_.

She runs to catch up to the woman and hauls herself up into the carriage. The inside is roomy and luxurious, even more so than her personal carriages she had ridden in as a child. What surprises her most, though, is the long white bag hanging from a hook at the back.

The woman closes the door behind her and tosses her cloak onto one of the two benches unceremoniously. There’s a gentle rumble underneath them as the carriage begins to move.

Finally, Cinders asks what has been on her mind since her cell door had been opened. “Who are you?”

“Who do you think I am?”

Cinders shrugs. “I don’t know, my godmother?” Her mother had read her many stories when she was little, mostly about prince’s and their quests for love ( _bleh_ ), but Cinders vaguely remembers a story where a little girl’s godfather took her on a grand adventure. It’s the only thing she can think of. 

The woman snorts. “Try ‘sister-in-law.’ Or, that’s what I’ll be in a few hours, if all goes to plan.”

She chokes as the woman turns around, and she finally realizes why she looked so familiar. The woman has Rose’s face, except that where Rose is scarred and rough, this woman’s skin is smooth and flawless. She suddenly remembers Rose mentioning a twin sister, and clears her throat. Rose’s twin just laughs.

“My name is Snow,” she says, walking across the carriage to the bag. She unzips it and pulls out something massive and white. “Now, you need to get changed.”

Cinders takes the white...thing, and Snow politely turns the other way while she shuffles to step into it. She keeps stepping on the ends, but she finally finds two long sleeves and pulls the thing that is apparently a dress up to her chest. It’s loose and open, so she steps backward towards Snow. Thankfully, she takes the hint and starts to button up the back of the dress. When she’s done, she turns around.

Snow grins. “I had to guess your sizes, but I think I did pretty well!”

The dress is silky and shimmering. The skirt billows out around her, but feels incredibly light. She does an experimental spin, and gasps when the dress sparkles.

It’s a ball gown of a wedding dress.

“Try the shoes next!” Snow says, and she has a pair of nearly translucent heels on her feet before she can ask her dying question. When she tries to ask, Snow cuts her off again. “What do you think?”

The entire ensemble is beautiful, and somehow it feels _right_. In fact, it’s practically perfect. The only thing she can say, however, is, “The shoes are a bit big.”

Snow laughs again. It’s not the same as Rose’s laugh; this is more cheeky and tinkling. “Considering the tight schedule, I hope you can forgive me.”

That seems a good place to start as any. “Why the haste? That seems...unwise, considering I don’t think I’m engaged.”

Snow groans and smacks her face with her palm. “I’ve been so busy planning your wedding, I forgot to tell you you’re _getting_ married!”

She sits on the bench, and Cinders lowers herself to the opposite seat with a grace that she had long forgotten she still had. The skirt was so large it covered almost the entirety of the rest of the bench.

“Rose wouldn’t stop talking about you; all of this stuff about how you were unfairly imprisoned—which I agree with!” she interrupted herself. “But I was a bit sick of hearing it and never being able to _actually_ meet you. So I found a loophole in your sentence: if you marry someone of higher or equal rank that is affiliated with King Cole’s administration, you’ll be pardoned.”

Cinders let that sink in. Free, at last. And all she had to do was marry...the love of her life. “That sounds too good to be true,” she admits.

Snow nods, grimacing. “I had to fill out a _lot_ of paperwork in order to actually get you out of prison. It wouldn’t be a very legal marriage if you broke out of jail to get there.” Her shoulders slump for a second before she continues. “Unfortunately, that means that you have to be married before midnight tonight, or else my release papers expire and the loophole is invalid.”

“It’s already pretty late,” Cinders says nervously. “Do we have enough time?”

“Just barely,” Snow replies. She stands and crosses the carriage, brushing the skirt out of the way to sit next to Cinders. “My parents would never forgive us if you and Rose didn’t at least invite them, and they have crazy high standards for weddings, so I spent all day getting you two dresses. Oh!” She gasps, reaching to her side. 

Snow pulls out a small box, lined in velvet. She hands it to Cinders, and she cradles it with tenderness. She knows what’s inside.

She’s still shocked, though, when she opens it. “But...this is—“

“I don’t know why he kept it, but it wasn’t particularly well protected.” Snow is braiding her hair, but Cinders’ can’t stop staring at the box. 

Her mother’s wedding ring looks back.

* * *

As she walks down the aisle, Snow by her side, she can’t help but stare at everyone else. The wedding is outdoors, and long benches frame her on either side. And they are full of people; people she doesn’t know, which is nerve-racking.

So she turns her gaze past them to see what Snow had called her “getaway carriage.” It’s a small spaceship, simple in nature, but incredibly beautiful. Though, Cinders thinks that anything capable of traversing the stars is stunning. Just past it, a large clock tower looms over her. The clock says it’s already just past eleven o’clock, and she tries to steady her nervous breathing.

She’s not looking at the ground, and she trips over the long dress. She stumbles, but quickly recovers, balancing on the heel of the too-big shoes and leaning against Snow. There’s a gasp from both the audience, and one from in front of her. She looks up.

And there was Rose.

She’s absolutely stunning. Her dress is made out of delicate lace, and Cinders can see what seems to be a pattern of flowers decorating the bodice. Her short hair is brushed back, so her scars are visible for everyone to see. She looks beautiful. And also terrified, if her expression and outstretched hands are anything to go by. The priest behind her was wearing a large hat that obscured his face, but his hands were also out in reassurance.

The reality of the moment hits Cinders like a hand squeezing at her heart. She was getting married. She was marrying Rose, her Rose, the love of her life.

She stands straight, grips her dress in both hands, kicks off the shoes, and marches to her happy ending.

* * *

The priest’s squeaky voice washes over her. Neither of them had any time to write their own vows, so she just repeats after the priest. In her head, however, Cinders tells Rose all the things she wishes she could put into words. And she can see in Rose’s eyes that she feels the same way. Her heart swells with pure love.

Rose slips a ring identical to the one she has—her father’s wedding band— onto her finger, the scarlet gem glowing. Cinders prepares to slide her own ring onto her love's finger when the first gunshots sound.

Startled by the sound, she nearly drops the ring. Luckily, Rose grabs it just in time. The gunshots continue, getting closer. Cinders shakes, suddenly reminded of the day her home planet was claimed by the greedy hands of the king. He’s coming for her again.

Rose pushes her away. “Run!” she cries, pulling out a pistol from some hidden pocket in her dress. She starts to turn, but Cinders grabs her wrist before she can go.

“There’s still time,” she pleads as the first chime of midnight sounds. “They can’t hurt us if we’re married.” _They can’t take us back_ , she thinks.

Rose cringes. “They might not accept it.”

Cinders clutches Rose’s face in her hands. “Then marry me for me.”

The second chime sounds, and Rose nods. The priest hurriedly spits out “I now pronounce you,” but Cinders is already kissing Rose. Her lips are soft and sweet, and she wants to stay in this moment forever.

But the gunshots are still coming, and the guests are screaming. There might even be canonfire now, everything is so loud. She pulls away and tries to tug Rose towards the ship, but Rose doesn’t budge.

“I’ll hold them off,” she yells, clutching the gun tight.

Cinders wants to object, but the fire in Rose’s eyes is too bright. She nods grimly. “And I’ll find you.” Rose shakes her head ever so slightly, but Cinders grabs her wrists, rolling her thumb over the glass wedding ring. “If you keep this on, I can find you.”

Rose smiles and kisses the back of her hand, and then she’s off. Cinders can see enemies, now, as the guests fall dead around her. Snow is already gone, but Cinders can’t bring herself to search through the bodies for her new sister-in-law.

Cinders takes a deep breath and flees to the stars just as the bell finishes chiming.

**Author's Note:**

> Some headcanons that I alluded to but didn’t quite make it into the fic:  
> -Cinders was between 12-15 when King Cole took over her planet, and has been in prison for about 10 years, making her 22-25.  
> -When she was first imprisoned, she was in a rather accommodating cell where people would come to gawk at her, including the new propaganda minister, Scheherazade.  
> -She kept trying to escape, so she was moved to the very bad quality cell  
> -The propaganda Minister before Scheherazade was Mother Goose, but she was imprisoned after her health began to deteriorate, and she spoke against King Cole freely  
> -There’s a space version of The Nutcracker  
> -Cinders and Rose are married by an early version of the Nova Pope. Nobody knows this other than The Mechanisms.
> 
> There’s a few more, but I’ll go into them into a sequel, if I actually write a sequel. Anyways, I’m watterdrop01 on tumblr, if you want to check me out, though I’m a bit of a lurker.


End file.
